


For a Moment

by echelons



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 06:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17719499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echelons/pseuds/echelons
Summary: Jean and Ororo have a quiet night in.





	For a Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This is set sometime between Giant Size X-Men and X-Men #98.

It was a dark and stormy night in New York City, and a woman with the power to control the weather sat in the living room of a small apartment on the fifth floor. Inside, the air was warm, the radiator on, and it smelled sweetly of vanilla, the scented candles flickering against the dark of the windows as rain lashed against the glass. A record spun on a turntable in the corner, the soft, plaintive sound of a jazz saxophone singing out through the static of the record.

Ororo Munroe was curled up on the couch, her feet tucked up next to her, her mind dancing along with the storm outside. She could feel the welcome release of pressure as the rain plummeted hard and fast against the concrete walls of the city. Every lightning strike felt like it was tracing out across her skin, the energy arcing up from the ground as it leapt down from the heavens, meeting in the middle in a moment of sound and fury.

She started as her hostess for the evening came in, carrying two brightly colored mugs painted with tropical flowers. “You look like you were miles away,” Jean said, and Ororo didn’t correct her, didn’t tell her that she’d been caught up with what was happening right on the other side of the wall.

“I made you a cappuccino,” Jean said, and Ororo accepted the offered drink, curling her fingers around the warmth of the mug. “Misty doesn’t like it when I use the espresso machine, but she’s not here tonight.” Jean was in an overly large Xavier’s School T-shirt, and as she spoke, Ororo noticed that she was wearing pink lip gloss as well. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Where is Misty?” Ororo asked as Jean sat down at the other end of the couch. Her bare feet brushed against Ororo’s leg as she settled in, making herself comfortable.

“I don’t know,” Jean said, then smiled mischievously. “I think she might have a date with that cute new ninja friend of hers.

Ororo nodded, although she didn’t know what Jean was talking about. She sipped her cappuccino, foaming but bitter, and listened to the music. The saxophone had given way to a piano that glided smoothly over a series of chords before fading back into the background as someone else took the opportunity for their solo. Jean nudged Ororo with her feet again, and she looked over at the other woman.

“What are you thinking about?” Jean asked.

“How weak the coffee is,” Ororo said honestly. Jean made a face, and she laughed. “Back in Cairo, the cafés stay open late into the night, later than many other places. We used to go in, after… we’d go in and order a coffee, one coffee for three or four of us and we’d share, taking tiny sips. It was strong, black as life, and so sweet we thought it was like candy.”

“Do you miss Cairo?”

She shook her head. “Not the way I miss Kenya. It is just that everything is different. The people, the weather, even the coffee. Everything is strange, and sometimes I feel lost.”

“I’m sorry,” Jean said, reaching out to put a hand on Ororo’s arm, warm and comforting. The words were rote, but the genuine expression in her eyes filled Ororo with gratitude anyway.

“Sometimes I wonder what I am even doing here,” she admitted.

“You’re part of the X-Men,” Jean said. “You’re making a difference.”

“If you really believe that, why did you leave the team?”

Jean drew her hand back and laughed a little, without any joy. Then, abruptly, she set her mug down on the table next to her and stood up from the couch. “Dance with me,” she said, swaying slightly.

“What?” Ororo said, leaning back against the cushions, shrinking away from Jean.

“Come on,” she said, reaching out and catching Ororo’s hand with her own. “Dance with me.”

The saxophone was back, plaintive as ever as Ororo let Jean pull her to her feet. What Jean called dancing seemed to involve little motion at all, as she swayed lightly back and forth, moving Ororo’s hands with her own. After a moment, she relaxed into it, the peculiar intimacy of standing next to Jean, breathing in the scent of her jasmine perfume as it mingled with the smells of vanilla and coffee. Her skin was warm and soft against Ororo’s own. The candles flickered and the record spun on.

Outside, a bolt of lightning split the sky. Ororo didn’t need to see it to feel the force of it, but she was inside, and inside, it was warm, and sweet, and safe. For a moment, she wasn’t Storm of the X-Men, or even Ororo Munroe, lost and so far from home. For a moment, she was just one more woman in New York City, dancing in the arms of her best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, this fic was just an exercise in atmosphere. Jean smells like jasmine because she wears Chanel No. 5.
> 
> Comments & kudos always appreciated!


End file.
